A Brief Rosh Hashanah Story About a Rabbi and Honey Cake

A couple of days ago, my wife and I were settling in for the evening when our doorbell rang. That may not seem unusual to most people, but it is to us. We live in a remote area of Northern Michigan, where we enjoy our privacy in our empty-nest years. I was cooking my specialty, grilled cheese, so I had to wait to answer the door while I turned the burner down. Maybe I thought whoever it was would just go away. Probably a local politician asking for my vote.

After a couple of minutes, I cautiously opened the door and saw the smiling, bearded face of a Chabad rabbi from a city twenty minutes away. In his hand was a honey cake, and on his lips were good wishes for Rosh Hashanah.

It was Rabbi Laibel Shemtov, who had just moved to the area a little over a year ago to set up shop, find lost Jews in an area where there aren’t too many of us, and open up a Jewish Community Center. I knew Rabbi Shemtov from an October 7 vigil held almost a year ago. I wrote about that here. I’d seen the rabbi a few times since at various events in town.

We made small talk, and then he asked me how my book was coming along. It was such an unexpected situation, yet also typically Chabad, since they have a reputation for setting up shop in remote places and always, always finding Jews in the most unlikely surroundings—including mine.

I posted this encounter on X recently, and the Jewish social media world laughed with me.

And, by the way, if you’re interested in how my book on antisemitism is coming along, I posted it on

JUDITH MAGAZINE

, a Jewish-friendly publication launched by

Elissa Wald

. She asked me to be its nonfiction editor, which I gladly accepted. Here are the first few paragraphs:

I cross the finish line at the Sleeping Bear Half-Marathon in Northern Michigan on October 7, 2023—my fifty-eighth birthday.

Why I Deleted My Book on Fighting Antisemitism and Started Over

On October 7, 2023, I turned fifty-eight years old. It should have been a day of joy. I felt better than I had in years—physically, because I had trained all summer for a 13.1-mile race, and emotionally, because my novel had just been accepted by a publisher. My spirits were high as I lined up at the start of the Sleeping Bear Half-Marathon, flanked by my two teenage boys.

Then everything changed.

News of the massacre in Israel reached me before the race began. It haunted me as I ran. When I finally crossed the finish line and could reconnect to the world, the reality was even worse than I had feared.

I don’t have to tell anyone reading this that the trauma was magnified by the world’s reaction to the slaughter of 1,200 Israelis. Instead of rallying to our defense, the hateful clamor grew more thunderous — demanding more Jewish blood even as the bodies were still being counted.

For weeks, I went through every stage of grief. I stopped running, turned away from taking care of my health, and sank into darkness as new horrors unfolded every day.

But eventually, I decided I couldn’t keep spiraling. I had to take action. Everybody has to contribute in their own way, and the only thing I know how to do reasonably well is write. That’s when I committed myself to a book on how to fight antisemitism. I called it From Outrage to Action: A Practical Guide to Fighting Antisemitism. I planned to use the skills I’d honed over my nearly four decades as a journalist, interviewing experts and ordinary people who were pushing back against Jew-hatred. My goal was to give our community something desperately needed — a resistance manual of sorts.

The project gained momentum. I announced it on social media, appeared on podcasts, and even launched a successful Kickstarter campaign to support it. I began interviewing people from across the Jewish spectrum and documenting their stories of courage.

And then… I deleted everything and started over.

You can find out why and read the rest of the piece here.

Yes, this book is still being written, but my second draft will be very different from the first. I’m hoping my change of direction will produce something unique and helpful. If you want to encourage me, you could always go paid on this newsletter! I’ll be running excerpts from my book for paid members only.

I do this all in my “spare” time in between my work as a freelance journalist, book editor, podcast host/producer, and other things that equal a living. By the way, if you’re looking for a book editor, check out my work here!

Shana Tova and Happy New Year to all who celebrate. Let’s hope 5785 will be a better year.